


A Birdie's Lark Will Leave A Mark

by nonky



Category: Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Super Mysteries - Franklin W. Dixon & Carolyn Keene
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, The Big Lie comic reboot, spoiler warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: He had figured out the game now, and knew how to play to match her. One of them had to admit to being vulnerable first, and it wasn't going to be Nancy. She couldn't afford it, which was terrifying. If what she was going through was really that bad, Frank could say the things that made his heart race with ugly embarrassment. He could humble himself until his Nancy found her way to the surface. He'd risk drowning to save her, so he'd risk fatal mortification to have back the smiling girl who liked to hold his hand.





	A Birdie's Lark Will Leave A Mark

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING: This is a missing scene fic inspired by The Big Lie by Dynamite Comics, a Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys reboot published in 2017. I was attempting to go spoiler free with it, because I really encourage fans of the old supermysteries series to pick it up. It's available as a limited series of six books or a graphic novel in complete. The plot is very personal and high stakes for both the Hardy and Drew families, and the modern noir feel is very well done. They are in their late teens, with Frank one year older. It is probably what I would rate a teen read for some violent content.
> 
> If you want to read the story despite spoilers, our three main characters were childhood friends and spent summers together. Nancy and Carson are a little family with Hannah as their housekeeper in River Heights. Frank and Joe grew up in Bayport. They reunite in Bayport because of a scandal that costs Fenton Hardy his law enforcement career. Frank and Joe have a nickname of Birdie for Nancy, but they have all been through some hard times. They are not the good-natured teenagers wanting to help people you would recognize.

Nancy's father slumped before he tried a last time to speak to her, then left her in front of the diner with a quick clasp to her arms.

Carson Drew should have looked polished and impressive gathering his long coat into his expensive rental sedan and driving away from his daughter on the sidewalk. The Drews were an impressive family. Carson's legal career was distinguished, and Nancy was known for being clever and beautiful. He won cases, she did well in school. They arrived in Bayport like minor celebrities, and the reputation didn't feel undeserved.

Back home they had Hannah, a housekeeper who was more like a manager of their private lives. She arranged groceries and a clean house, photos to mark holidays and cakes on birthdays. She genuinely cared for father and daughter, and made sure they had stylish wardrobes that suited both slim, attractive members of the Drew family. From the outside, they looked successful and there was no reason to feel they wouldn't both have long and storied careers - even before Nancy chose her career officially.

Frank knew Carson's sister in New York City, but otherwise their few relatives meant Nancy was used to being around adults in social situations that would be awkward for him. He couldn't imagine not having a house full of adults with someone older and wiser forever there, and the supervision of a doting mother. He wasn't sure he was ever going to be ready for that.

Of course his father's loss was still an open wound, so losing anyone was anathema to him. He was barely holding steady on Nancy's plan because it involved feuding with Joe. It had been hard to have fake fights with his brother, and then they'd become real conflicts.

The things they were doing felt dirty. He was ingratiating himself to drug dealers and having secret deals in underground tunnels. He was lying to police and probably holding back information for their investigations. It was only the certain knowledge that someone very corrupt had cost him his father that allowed Frank's morals to bend as far as they had.

Joe might say their morals had cracked the moment they got someone killed helping them. Nancy would remind him morality needed context to be meaningful. Injustice didn't surrender quietly once it was pointed out. It took evidence to unravel the kind of conspiracy that destroyed Fenton Hardy.

Nancy's intellect was unchanged, but he'd seen her morals tinged a darker shade, bloodied with some trouble that came over her recently.

For a moment, Frank felt himself the third point of triangulation between father and daughter. She was standing on the sidewalk rubbing her forehead, Carson pulling his seatbelt roughly to fasten it. He could feel the frustrated hurt feelings from both of them, as if there was a massive misunderstanding unspoken in her aimless glance to the street. If he were able to trace it like a phone signal, he could have followed the distracted pain to the source, but it was just a display of emotion. Long before a phone trace would have brought results, Carson was pulling into traffic, Nancy was checking her makeup and he had to pretend he'd seen nothing.

If he'd been asked six months ago, Frank would have said Nancy was the closest to her father. They were still parent and child, but they didn't fight. She negotiated, and they set terms. Nancy always had pocket money, her blue roadster, nice clothes and the freedom to absent herself from traditional discipline like curfews. She had excellent grades and made it to school even if she was out late the previous night. She even had a bit of a standing as a socialite, after solving a few cases for famous visitors to her hometown. She traveled alone, ever comfortable in her own skin.

She was still beautiful, but her preppy dresses had been retired to the back of the closet. She was dressed down most of the time, not quite up to par for her. She had been partying a lot for a while, but now she was barely making an appearance anywhere. Frank knew their secret meetings were taking up her free time, but she did have other friends in Bayport. He'd seen her decline calls; impatient to get back to the petty crimes they were racking up.

He and Joe were dour company, but she didn't try to lighten the mood. All three of them were stuck in a plodding attempt to cope, and Frank didn't even know what had set off Nancy's troubled mind. He supposed she was their friend, and worried about them, but her worries predated their father's arrest.

He knew Nancy was fine being seen with the newly untouchable Hardy brothers, and she could stand up to social pressure. Maybe her plotting to help them had taken more of a toll on her family life than was fair.

He walked outside and asked her about her father, but she said something about his not feeling well and giving a vague hint to stay out of trouble harkening back to their childhood adventures.

"You know we would understand if helping us was really hurting your relationship with your father," Frank said quietly. "If you needed to step back and let us complete the plan without you, Joe and I wouldn't be angry."

There was a bitterness in Nancy's squared shoulders when she stalked to her car. "That's not it."

Frank climbed into the passenger seat and let her drive away before he tried again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to say," Nancy told him starkly. "I don't know anything except I have questions he has no reason to answer. And if I ask, I think he'll lie, so . . . "

Fenton Hardy had endured full interrogations from his two sons, shaking his head and muttering over and over that he didn't know the answers. They had been desperate to help, and that desperation had just added to his misery. The words aloud had made it real, and Frank could see how Nancy just wanted to leave the situation alone.

"I think your father respects you enough to give you whatever truth he's able," he told her. "But I get that you don't want to confirm bad news. Nancy, is it something to do with my father?"

She glanced away from the road, a softer look for him than the the rest of the world. "No! It's a really old issue. It's something in my mother's old email accounts. There are dozens of messages hinting at a big fight, or even a betrayal. I always wondered why she was so sick so quickly. I think something terrible happened between them, bad enough my father made an excuse to leave town for work early. And by the time he got back, she was gone."

A dead parent wasn't something he had any comfort for, but Frank did his best to soothe the wound he'd aggravated.

"I don't want to minimize how you feel, but your mother would have done anything to stay with you. She got really sick, too fast for medicine to help. It could have been really bad timing, but it doesn't mean your parents' fight caused anything different," he said.

Nancy had driven them to her hotel and parked with a sigh. "I'm trying to figure it out, but I don't want to talk about it now," she said. "We need to lay low until tonight. Unfortunately your new reputation comes with a lot of hassle from the local PD."

He got out with her, wondering if he should offer to go elsewhere and give her some privacy. It was his town, and he had favourite spots to disappear for a while. Nancy only had her hotel.

"Well, it's not like they liked us before," he told her. "I'm not sad to be losing crooked cops as friends."

She went in the side door, and bypassed the lobby with the staff members trained to acknowledge guests and greet them. Nancy used her keycard easily, walking quickly as she led the way.

Technically she had her own room in the suite, and wasn't under any instructions not to have friends over. Frank wasn't sure that counted for him, and for a hotel room that was one-third luxurious bed. There was no reason to risk their cover. She circled the long way around for her door directly into her bedroom.

Once they were locked inside, they listened for voices. If her father was around, he was asleep. It was the afternoon, and he should be working.

Frank kicked off his shoes and cringed as he noticed a hole in his sock, tugging those off once he saw Nancy was removing her coat, boots and the few bracelets she'd been wearing. If they were making themselves comfortable, his bare feet weren't going to get them into trouble. He wasn't used to caring about being presentable to go to someone's home. The Hardy family didn't get invitations like that anymore.

Nancy was puttering, emptying the pockets of her coat and wiping at an imaginary smear of eye makeup. She checked the door to the rest of the suite and engaged the privacy lock. It wasn't a strong lock for keeping anyone out, but it would do for a warning. Frank looked around, surprised to see almost nothing personal even after she'd lived there months. Her favourite thing as a child had been taking photos and stuffed animals with her to immediately transform her temporary room into a version of home. There was a stuffed animal duffel in her luggage allowance.

"I don't think we need to talk over the plan for tonight that much," he said. "I mean, we need to see who shows up to know who we can call to arrest them."

Nancy shrugged. "It feels prepared enough. It's like you said, we need to know the dirty cops or we'd just be alerting them we're there to catch them. There are movies on demand, or my laptop is around here. I'm not particularly tired, but if you wanted a nap that's fine, too. I just know we won't get a second chance at this meet, so we need to keep you out of way of the police today."

She sank into the lush bed, shoving at pillows until she was sitting up against the headboard. There was no book with one of Hannah's crochet bookmarks on the bedside table. The space looked bare with just the television remote, and Frank had a passing impression that she didn't sleep well, just stared at the screen until exhaustion took her under.

"Hey, come here," Nancy said, soft and with a little hint of something like glee.

This was familiar territory, though not with her. The sudden spike of youth and hormones caught both of them, and Frank climbed up next to her. He ignored the too many pillows and leaned down until she kissed him, all teasing slide of lips. It wasn't passionate the right way, just making out. They were unsupervised with a bed handy, feeling stress that had no release valve.

It was as natural as a flooded street during a downpour, and he rationalized it. It was really the least harmful thing they'd done together all week. If they could go to illegal poker games and drug buys, they could grope for a bit and work out some of the tension.

He leaned into her when she pulled, putting some of his weight on her and touching her hair. Hardness in her eyes didn't make her hair less soft, her mouth less warm. She tasted like a mint she must have popped in the car.

Her hands were on him, trying out spots. He did the same, easing down and stopping then up to safe areas and darting lower to try his luck. He kept waiting for a sharp word or a smaller hand holding him back. She just wriggled against him and went up on one hip, swaying them on the bed. On one pass, her hand latched to his belt loop and he cupped her ass, and then grinding was on the table.

Frank was fine until she started pushing down her clothing, pulling back layers of protection until her bare legs were kicking off whatever she'd taken off. He thought it might have been everything below the waist, and he moved his hands well away from any bare skin. He let her push the flannel jacket down, but was glad for the t-shirt underneath.

He was not ready for the awareness of her, the realization Nancy had her hand down between her legs. She moaned a little, and he kissed her harder.

"You could take yours off, too," she said quietly.

The jeans could go if the rest stayed. It was still just making out. He made his brain work out the damage done if this went ugly all of a sudden, if the brittle and harsh version of Nancy emerged to broil him alive with her words.

He wasn't in love with her, but they were close. They were friends, hooking up. This was what people did, right? Except he wasn't really sure, and stopping to ask was going to piss her off.

Horny won out, and he opened the pants eagerly. She helped push them down, and he sucked on his teeth when she grazed his cock through the boxers. Nancy was looking at him, sizing him up and her blue eyes were hot. It wasn't quite the dazzling sweetness of sharing an adventure with her younger self, but it was exploration. They were good at being brave, fumbling in the dark and not backing down.

Frank sat up to get rid of the pants, and Nancy pushed him to his back when he lay down. He looked up at her from an overly frilly pillow, hands out to his sides as she threw a leg over him and sank gently on his hips.

She was definitely bare underneath the long shirt, and he was careful to put his hands over the fabric as he held on and let her move on him. This had escalated way too fast, but maybe they'd just both get off and never talk about it. She felt nearly there, and he was feeling blood rush away from his extremities to cheer on whatever motion had Nancy's hips rocking on his hard-on.

The view was pretty great, and he stared at her breasts. She was still in a shirt and bra, but she caught him looking and reached behind her to get the hooks open. Frank dragged her face down to kiss her again, and she went. There was a moment of pause, her breath hot on his cheek, but she did kiss him. He walked fingertips up her arms, poked under her sleeves and tugged bra straps down until they looped off her hands. She slipped it through the shirt and threw it away somewhere. The soft impact sounded, she sat up, and her hand put his palm to her belly and left it there to decide a direction.

Lower was tempting, but it was also more of an unknown. He cupped one breast with tentative slowness, watching her face for a signal Nancy was past her comfort level. She was blushing, but her hips had resumed the sultry working on him. She was looking down on him with a steady, slightly dazed glow.

She was, obviously, amazing at everything. Frank should have known. He should have known it would feel deeply inadequate to just experiment with her like the outcome didn't matter. And he was starting to worry the outcome here was his pre-broken heart pulverized into a wineglass so she could sip it politely.

"This is sort of my stopping point for fooling around," he said, breathing hard. His hand was still playing with her nipple, finding the uncovered curve of her shape under the shirt. He was pinned by the thumping of his heart.

Nancy didn't stop moving. She made eye contact and he got the odd feeling maybe her heart was pre-broken too. The point might not be to hurt him, but to hurt herself using him. He didn't like either scenario very well.

"Okay, but what if we don't stop?"

Challenge, open and fierce, very strong in a way she could turn on and off. He met it because there was something to solve here, a vital something about her real inner self that had nothing to do with the wet heat between her legs.

"Then I would call it more than fooling around, and I would want to know it was a little bit more serious than that," he said. "I would maybe want to talk about it, later when my brain works."

"Are you demanding I buy you dinner," she teased. The edge was still there, light but razor sharp.

He held her hips and made her stop moving, needing a clear moment to disturb the disquieting intensity she was stirring in their bodies. He wanted to, but that wasn't a new feeling. Wanting to wasn't the same as being ready for whatever came after. He didn't think it was going to be drinking a milkshake with two straws and agreeing to go steady.

"I'm telling you I can see you're having some kind of a crisis, too. I'm saying we maybe can't start anything good based off sneaking around undercover. If we do this, I'd want to be able to hold your hand and walk into parties with you. I'd want to be able to ask you on a date and not be afraid you were going to laugh in my face."

She went blank, fatigue slumping her whole frame. Frank wanted to hug her, but she was proud. She'd been raised without her mother, and expressed her feelings more like her father's stoic example.

"I wouldn't laugh at you," Nancy said. "But I wouldn't count on being invited to any parties soon. We've done a really good job wrecking your reputation."

He sighed. Not the point, and the diversion wasn't going to get her out of the conversation. If she could surprise him stripping off her clothes, he could do the same with his feelings.

"I've been approaching this with the idea I'll feel better laying my father to rest properly," Frank told her. "That there's a way to recover from disaster, and feel like a part of the world again instead of someone pushed to the edge where they keep the wounded outsiders. I sort of pictured you being there when my life got to feeling normal."

"We'll always be friends. I don't know I can promise more than that," she said.

An honest answer, a minor miracle from his birdie. He caught one of her hands and held it, squeezing when she tried to pull away. Stupid to honestly believe head-to-toe contact was fine, but hands clasping was somehow too far. Nancy didn't seem to get the irony.

"You could tell me what's bothering you," he said. "I know you don't want to talk, but you might need to. I might have a good idea. I just don't want to be a symptom of your misery you won't like seeing after you're feeling better."

"You make me feel better," she said. "Not much does, but you do."

She put their joined hands on her ribs, pouting down on him with sincere bemusement. Frank was so easily flattered by her, so easy in general. Nancy could ask anything else and he'd do it for her yesterday. But for this, he needed to worry she'd still be around tomorrow.

"I'm glad. That's another reason to check this isn't a way to wallow in it. Have you even had sex before," he asked gently.

Nancy shook her head. "Have you?"

"Pretty close to it, but no. So I'd like to have a decent memory of it, and not just a lingering guilt I'd hurt you."

She frowned, stubborn. "I like to think it's my choice who hurts me. If I have to get hurt at all, I should pick," she told him. "And for the record, I am picking you."

Surreal to have her perched above him, on the edge of an argument with her outlined bare on his tented boxers. Frank closed his eyes and summoned blood up to his brain for thinking very carefully how to phrase his concern.

"I don't want you end up hating me later," he said. "I don't want to end up hating myself later."

"So we keep going until one of us wants to stop. And if neither of us wants to stop, we just - keep going," Nancy said plainly. "You have this way of making everything so heavy on morality."

He didn't want to stop. It felt like the world's best bad idea to just be with her now and call himself a fortunate man.

"What about a condom," Frank asked, scrounging for his final dying scrap of common sense.

She leaned to the side, lifting up to reach the drawer. He couldn't stop himself from looking down, watching the end of her shirt reveal her for a moment, glittering curls and an obscured pink blur as she came back to land a little heavily on his groin.

A foil package hit his chest, followed by another and another, playfully scattered across his torso. Frank sighed with a deep premonition of having lost the battle. He was convinced.

"You got smug," he grumbled, flipping their positions and rising above her to sit up straddling her thigh.

"You grew a battering ram," Nancy said flippantly. "People change."

"Jesus." His hands were shaking. He had snagged a condom before sending the rest scattering, but he needed a moment before he could ease the boxers down and roll it on with fussy precision.

She touched him low on his ribs, cold fingertips tracing a pattern of her own making. He and Joe had let Nancy's plan replace his absent father's, making her their new handler. He closed his eyes when she did handle him, testing the aching flesh of his erection with a little pump of two fingers.

"Yeah, I definitely want you to fuck me," she said.

It was too hot in the damn room. It was too hot in the world. He'd blame global warming except her shirt had ridden up when he tossed her gently to her back. She was willing underneath him, and he was tripping over his alarmed brain trying to tell him to think, to have thoughts, to function.

"Fuck, Nancy, you can't say things like that."

He pushed the boxers away, kicked at them until they came off. Her hands were roaming on him, brushing away ambivalence and getting her way. Her leg slid out, both of his moved to the middle, and he was down on top of her with very little to come between them.

"You sure about this?"

Nancy dragged his shirt off. "Very sure," she told him.

Kissing her deliberately was so much more, and kissing her naked almost hurt his head. It was like an ice cream headache, and he was chasing the pain for the accompanying sweetness. If he could just think, just process, it would make sense.

For a little time, it was effortless again. They were grinding hips, kissing with wide-mouthed swipes of tongues. Her hands were goading, daring his erection nearer to the spot rubbing on her would change to slipping into her.

There was a signal given and received, some instinct both of them knew. Her legs bent around him and he pressed, notched, felt the give of flesh for what it was. It was better than finding the secret passageway out of the locked library, better even than the treasure lost inside the ancient castle. She was warmly, passionately alive, and when he moved to her Nancy lifted to him.

Frank heard himself make noises, but he really heard her. She inhaled as if going under at the pool, then said twice, "Oh." The first was quiet, and the second as jarring as a sob.

He paused, and she clutched at him with her legs, her body locked down around him. "Can you - try to relax," he asked.

"Can you," Nancy grumbled, squirming as the discomfort lingered.

He wasn't quite there, felt resistance plainly. He just wasn't sure if he should be pushing in anyway.

"No, you're very stressful," he told her seriously. "Are you really this tight or are you trying to keep me out?"

"Apparently, I'm freakishly tight," Nancy said, rolling her eyes. "I'm fine, but this halfway shit is awful. Just push harder and I'll try to help you."

Frank kissed her softly, adjusting until their awkward sprawl was more of an embrace. He tipped her legs up a bit higher, and felt a little room open up. He followed the path into her, trying another easing thrust.

"Just do it once really hard," she said unhappily.

He had always thought he'd have more finesse and confidence, but she was obviously uncomfortable. There was an almost panicky feeling, like the opposite of claustrophobia. He needed to be enclosed and squeezed raw, hugged and pressed and contained before all this burned him up.

He pulled back, almost out, and made himself go back in with a blunt stab. It must have stung. Nancy froze underneath him, her grip denting his arms. One of her legs started to jitter against his side, the other one oddly stiff. He looked down to find he'd grabbed her knee and swung her open broadly, pinning it to the bed.

The relief he'd expected was further on, somewhere nearer to when she'd been lifting to him and not just waiting out the initial shock of penetration. Frank let go of her leg and she made a noise as he petted her side gently.

"Nancy?"

"Do not tell me to relax again," she mumbled.

"No, I don't have a death wish. I wanted to tell you you feel good. You smell good. And I was wondering if I could kiss you?"

Her eyes cracked open.

"You're asking if it's okay to kiss me?"

"Yes."

He had figured out the game now, and knew how to play to match her. One of them had to admit to being vulnerable first, and it wasn't going to be Nancy. She couldn't afford it, which was terrifying. If what she was going through was really that bad, Frank could say the things that made his heart race with ugly embarrassment. He could humble himself until his Nancy found her way to the surface. He'd risk drowning to save her, so he'd risk fatal mortification to have back the smiling girl who liked to hold his hand.

"How dumb would it be if I wanted you to fuck me but I wouldn't let you kiss me," she asked.

"Not dumb. I'd assume you had your reasons," Frank told her.

"It was implied you could kiss me, and also if you could get back to fucking me sometime before midnight. We have an appointment to keep."

The little dig at their larger purpose spending time together was good. It gave him a sizzle of anger along with the weird tenderness of leaning down to press his mouth to the upper slope of her breast. She shifted impatiently, but her hand rose to card through his hair.

It wasn't enough she liked parts of him. She had to feel all of him and accept it. He tracked his mouth up her throat and nibbled, careful not to leave marks. It was bad enough they were playing at being delinquents and minor criminals. He didn't want Nancy to give anyone the impression she was available. It was better she should be cold and all-business, even for him.

Without really planning it, Frank started a slow rock of his hips at the same moment his teeth caught her lower lip. He grazed her with a bite, and heard her sigh as she shook underneath him.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, don't stop."

Her arms were up around him, heels digging into the mattress to get some leverage. She was back to her urging wiggles, working around the angle until she found something she liked and clawed his ass to keep him lined up.

Nancy's derision for his speed leaked out with a broken kiss, her head tipping back as she murmured, "I won't break, Frank."

"You don't get to bully me," he argued. "I'm not interested in hurting you. If that's what you want, you can say so."

He pressed deep on her, noticing the pressure that hadn't let him in was now more of a massaging reaction inside her body. There was room for him, and heat and glorious meaning in it if she could just let him have it without breaking into his mood every few minutes to make sure he knew they weren't having some kind of a romantic breakthrough.

She looked at him helplessly. "You just - don't be so careful. You're being gentle. I can feel you holding back," Nancy said quietly.

He was trying to get her desperate, because if he started moving faster the way his heart was pounding he was going to last three more thrusts and leave her unsatisfied. Frank gave her a few deeper lunges of his hips, and slipped out of her with a sigh.

He shoved in without pausing for her comfort, and she exhaled loudly. Her eyes shut and she whimpered, but she relaxed when he went back to his gradual rocking thrusts. It was slowly kindling heat, chasing off the uncertainty in her hands landing on him and folding back near her own body. He waited for her to be unaware of herself except as a movement counter to his own.

Frank swept down for the occasional kiss, but that seemed to unnerve her. Nancy responded with a little shocked leap from the barest affection. He could pound her into the mattress and she pretended to be scarcely interested enough to stay awake, but he couldn't kiss her almost chastely.

He had the feeling she'd already broken him, and he couldn't let her make this a one-night stand. Frank leaned into a thrust and made it a lift, getting his knees up until he was tipping her off the bed by her hips. He made a fist under her lower back, and centered his thumb on her clit. Trapped as she was between his cock and the wary shake of her legs, she cried out.

"You're okay, just let me, please," he said.

The next time he moved he made sure to roll for as much contact as possible inside and out. He teased her clit with brushing petting, enjoying how big she shivered when he gave up playing fair. Nancy was smart, but sometimes she had to want to be simple and feeling. She had to get tired of always reading situations and being aware of exits. She had to want safety to be physically bare and cared for.

Frank wished for those things. He didn't think he was alone in it.

She wavered and he knew he had her when even her shoulders were clenching up in time with his cock diving into her and the subtle skim of his now-wet thumb. He pulled her feet off the bed and she locked her ankles around him, holding him nearer so he could steady himself above her and just move until their momentum shook the bed. Her hands were up straining to the headboard, her face red as she alternated trying to watch him and shutting her eyes.

"Nancy." He made her pay attention, got her eyes on his and then looked down deliberately until she followed his gaze. His withdrawal was drawn out, but he shoved himself back in roughly enough to hear the slap of skin.

After that it was a blur of hasty thrusts and trying to hold out, months of stress working out in careless grips and guttural demands. Frank took his thumb off her clit once she reached down and pushed it away with shaking fingers, but he made sure every joining was a full-body jolt with his chest rubbing her nipples through her shirt.  


Nancy caught him by the hair, her face hidden as she moaned and everything on her sucked at him like a riptide. He froze inside her, unable to help as she burned along his cock with something he knew he didn't possess.

"There, breathe with it," he whispered. She had bitten her lip, but he kissed her anyway, tasting the blood.

The painful tightness was back, but just for him. He felt her limbs go slack and trembling. Her heavy breathing hitching sounded like the gentler echo of his own gasps. Frank pulled out a last time, shoulders down as she braced him with her hips finally dropped back to the mattress.

He was out of calming methods or planning. He knew nothing except sensation riding him, and the feel of a hand keeping his head up rather roughly by his hair. Her hips curved to fit him, her body tapered to suit the shape of him crowding her in his need.

"Frank . . . " Nancy, calling to him, open to him, familiar and unfamiliar at once. He had her, or she had him.

The slightest easing let him go off, holding up on one arm until he collapsed on her with the most profound absence of self he'd ever known. There was a moment of genuine blankness of mind, like a cleared desk and nothing ever to be solved. He buried himself in her, and it felt nothing like dying.


End file.
